This is the first scene from Dumb Slut Summer; one of a set of erotic stories from my book In Service, available with my other books on my Amazon Author Page. Let me know if you enjoy it and I'll post the next scene, or buy the book to read the full story and others.
When a sexy young Ivy League PhD adopts an alter ego for one last debaucherous Dumb Slut Summer in Provincetown, he doesn’t realize that it may change his priorities forever.
Dumb Slut Summer
May
I saw the dunes rising around me, my battered car shuttering against the bracing spring wind that pushed the sands down from the dunes, obscuring the edges of the road. Those dunes told me that I had almost reached the tiny strip of paradise that would be the backdrop for my first, and maybe only, wild summer.
I already felt like I had been working forever and was older than my years. My childhood love of science baffled my parents, a solidly middle class if not intellectually inclined family. I was, from the start, considered the ‘brainy one’ of the family, and whether it was my own inclination or that early label, I felt both the urge and the pressure, to live up to the moniker.
High school awards and accolades from enthusiastic teachers followed by four years of undergraduate biology studies in Virginia. Five years in the Harvard PhD program with a set of peer reviewed publications and a thick thesis on the molecular pathology of human Ribosomopathies which fluttered now in the back seat of my car with the graduation gown and mortar board that I’d forgotten to toss in the air in my haste to leave it all behind.
I’d worked hard and landed a great job at a biotech company in Cambridge starting this fall. But I desperately needed to give my weary brain a rest. In all the work, the papers, the thesis, the accolades, I had completely forgotten to have fun. And finally, one late night, after the sixty laps in the empty university swimming pool that kept me sane, I realized. If I didn’t take this summer to go wild, I may never get the chance until I was too old to enjoy it. And that’s when my plan for Dumb Slut Summer began to form.
I’d made my obligatory gay pilgrimage to Provincetown the first summer of my PhD program. I was blown away by the freedom – the gorgeous near-naked men, the crush of the tea dances and the testosterone-fueled dancefloors where sweaty bodies grinded and groped against each other. This was the life that a skinny, nerdy boy from Virginia who’d spent his life with his nose in books had missed. I was more observer than participant that visit, but the seed had been planted, a fantasy really, that one day I would chuck it all and immerse myself in the debauchery.
And now, school completed and my future fixed ahead of me, I followed the long imperceptible curve of the Cape to its tip, like a perfect long cock, to live incognito as a brainless boytoy for just once in my life, before committing to my future. The swimming had been my mental break during school, but it served an equally important purpose in preparing me for this summer. It chiseled my once pencil-thin bookworm’s body into something proportionate and beautiful. My skin, blemish-free from years in libraries instead of athletic fields, encased a muscled set of shoulders and a wide v back that tapered down to a baby-smooth torso and solid legs that had propelled hundreds of nautical miles through that pool. My body was ready to be used, my mind ready to shut down for four glorious months. I had never presented myself as a dumb jock before but was determined to play the role now. Young, Dumb and Full of Cum. That would be me during Dumb Slut Summer.
It is clearly preseason when I park my car in Provincetown and began to walk around the still quiet town. Stores and restaurants remain closed, and the only activity is primarily construction workers, painters and landscapers preparing for the season. After a couple passes down an empty Commercial Street, I duck into one of the few open bars. The long narrow space is dark with a long bar running on the right and a smattering of randomly placed tables to the left. A fraction of the bar stools is taken by what I assume are year-round regulars, in couples or by themselves, hunched over beers and looking as if they’d been there since last summer. Behind the bar, a handsome young stud smiled in welcome at me. He wore a heavyweight Carhartt work shirt over a tight white tank and jeans. I imagined him tearing that overshirt off as soon as the temperatures reached the seventies, ready for the summer crowd. He seemed so incongruous in this dark, shabby space with his bright smile.
“What can I get you handsome?”
“Well, I need a job and a place to stay, but I’ll take a beer for now.”
The sleepy grey regulars suddenly perked up and looked around, aware that there was someone new in their midst. They watched the playful chatter between two young men with prurient passivity.
“I’m Andy,” the barkeep reached across the bar by way of greeting, and I extended my hand back.
“Dean,” I heard myself lie, with the nom de slut I’d settled on before the trip to keep my summer fun separate from the rest of my life.
“Well, if you need a place to stay Dean, I’m sure we can work something out for you. I’ll bet any of these guys would be happy to take you in,” Andy gestured down the line of men all staring luridly at me like fresh meat. I knew how inviting I must look to the sleepy patrons, my nipples pert from the spring chill under my fitted long sleeve tee, baseball cap shielding my blue eyes and a pair of worn jeans that clung to every inch of my swimmer’s ass and thighs. But my attention was directed at the handsome stud serving drinks in front of me. Andy broke away to refresh the other patrons’ drinks, giving me a chance to watch the handsome hunk. He leaned performatively with his elbows on the bar as he flirted with the regulars, his big, beautiful ass sticking out from under the back of his shirt. As he reached up to the bar shelves, I took notice of his sexy midriff, a slight dusting of hair ran down his treasure trail to the worn bulge in his jeans. Andy, aware of the attention, would wink back at me as he went about his work.
“Hey, if you’re really looking for a place and work you should get in touch with JC. He’s the man to help you out around here,” Andy said when he returned from his round. He leaned in intimately as he said it and I felt a stir at the closeness of the sexy bartender. “I can give you his card if you want. I think I have it somewhere in the back.”
“That would be great.”
“C’mon, I’ll find it for you and you can give me a hand. I need some help moving a couple kegs around back there.”
I was all too eager to go to the back room and help out the buff bartender, and followed him along the length of the counter to the small back room at the end of the bar. The room was only slightly brighter than the bar, with a door leading to the outside and a wall of fliers and tacked miscellany fluttering in the breeze that came through a small opaque window. As soon as we were in the small space the bartender pivoted toward me, pushing me up against the wall. I could feel the pushpins against my back as the sexy barkeep, without warning or permission slid his hands up into my tight shirt, his mouth locked deep and his tongue probing my mouth. I struggled a bit out of surprise before surrendering to the excitement of this illicit scene. The bartender ran his hands across every inch of my long, lean torso, pulling the hair under my armpits while his thumbs ran circles along my erect nipples. His tongue soon followed suit.
“As soon as I saw these nipples I knew I had to taste them,” Andy whispered gruffly as he unbuttoned my fly and jammed his hand within the tight space. He smiled when he felt no underwear, stroking aggressively at the turgid cock that lurked beneath. Pinned against the wall I felt wildly aroused by my lack of control as the sexy bartender held the back of my head with one hand, his tongue plunged deep down my throat, his other hand working hard and fast at my throbbing cock. This kid knew what he was doing. I could already feel myself reaching climax. I moaned into Andy’s open mouth as I burst in stream after stream of relief from my pent-up arousal. Andy bent down to clean me with his mouth, and it was only then that I realized that the line of men in the bar had been watching us the whole time through the small door to the backroom. They smiled back at me appreciatively and returned to their beers when Andy rose from his knees, pulled the hand towel from his shoulder and whispered, “Welcome to Ptown.” He grabbed the promised business card off the cork board, handed it to me and walked back out to the bar to hoots and appreciative applause from the patrons.
![DumbSlutSummer.png]( "DumbSlutSummer.png")
When a sexy young Ivy League PhD adopts an alter ego for one last debaucherous Dumb Slut Summer in Provincetown, he doesn’t realize that it may change his priorities forever.
Dumb Slut Summer
May
I saw the dunes rising around me, my battered car shuttering against the bracing spring wind that pushed the sands down from the dunes, obscuring the edges of the road. Those dunes told me that I had almost reached the tiny strip of paradise that would be the backdrop for my first, and maybe only, wild summer.
I already felt like I had been working forever and was older than my years. My childhood love of science baffled my parents, a solidly middle class if not intellectually inclined family. I was, from the start, considered the ‘brainy one’ of the family, and whether it was my own inclination or that early label, I felt both the urge and the pressure, to live up to the moniker.
High school awards and accolades from enthusiastic teachers followed by four years of undergraduate biology studies in Virginia. Five years in the Harvard PhD program with a set of peer reviewed publications and a thick thesis on the molecular pathology of human Ribosomopathies which fluttered now in the back seat of my car with the graduation gown and mortar board that I’d forgotten to toss in the air in my haste to leave it all behind.
I’d worked hard and landed a great job at a biotech company in Cambridge starting this fall. But I desperately needed to give my weary brain a rest. In all the work, the papers, the thesis, the accolades, I had completely forgotten to have fun. And finally, one late night, after the sixty laps in the empty university swimming pool that kept me sane, I realized. If I didn’t take this summer to go wild, I may never get the chance until I was too old to enjoy it. And that’s when my plan for Dumb Slut Summer began to form.
I’d made my obligatory gay pilgrimage to Provincetown the first summer of my PhD program. I was blown away by the freedom – the gorgeous near-naked men, the crush of the tea dances and the testosterone-fueled dancefloors where sweaty bodies grinded and groped against each other. This was the life that a skinny, nerdy boy from Virginia who’d spent his life with his nose in books had missed. I was more observer than participant that visit, but the seed had been planted, a fantasy really, that one day I would chuck it all and immerse myself in the debauchery.
And now, school completed and my future fixed ahead of me, I followed the long imperceptible curve of the Cape to its tip, like a perfect long cock, to live incognito as a brainless boytoy for just once in my life, before committing to my future. The swimming had been my mental break during school, but it served an equally important purpose in preparing me for this summer. It chiseled my once pencil-thin bookworm’s body into something proportionate and beautiful. My skin, blemish-free from years in libraries instead of athletic fields, encased a muscled set of shoulders and a wide v back that tapered down to a baby-smooth torso and solid legs that had propelled hundreds of nautical miles through that pool. My body was ready to be used, my mind ready to shut down for four glorious months. I had never presented myself as a dumb jock before but was determined to play the role now. Young, Dumb and Full of Cum. That would be me during Dumb Slut Summer.
It is clearly preseason when I park my car in Provincetown and began to walk around the still quiet town. Stores and restaurants remain closed, and the only activity is primarily construction workers, painters and landscapers preparing for the season. After a couple passes down an empty Commercial Street, I duck into one of the few open bars. The long narrow space is dark with a long bar running on the right and a smattering of randomly placed tables to the left. A fraction of the bar stools is taken by what I assume are year-round regulars, in couples or by themselves, hunched over beers and looking as if they’d been there since last summer. Behind the bar, a handsome young stud smiled in welcome at me. He wore a heavyweight Carhartt work shirt over a tight white tank and jeans. I imagined him tearing that overshirt off as soon as the temperatures reached the seventies, ready for the summer crowd. He seemed so incongruous in this dark, shabby space with his bright smile.
“What can I get you handsome?”
“Well, I need a job and a place to stay, but I’ll take a beer for now.”
The sleepy grey regulars suddenly perked up and looked around, aware that there was someone new in their midst. They watched the playful chatter between two young men with prurient passivity.
“I’m Andy,” the barkeep reached across the bar by way of greeting, and I extended my hand back.
“Dean,” I heard myself lie, with the nom de slut I’d settled on before the trip to keep my summer fun separate from the rest of my life.
“Well, if you need a place to stay Dean, I’m sure we can work something out for you. I’ll bet any of these guys would be happy to take you in,” Andy gestured down the line of men all staring luridly at me like fresh meat. I knew how inviting I must look to the sleepy patrons, my nipples pert from the spring chill under my fitted long sleeve tee, baseball cap shielding my blue eyes and a pair of worn jeans that clung to every inch of my swimmer’s ass and thighs. But my attention was directed at the handsome stud serving drinks in front of me. Andy broke away to refresh the other patrons’ drinks, giving me a chance to watch the handsome hunk. He leaned performatively with his elbows on the bar as he flirted with the regulars, his big, beautiful ass sticking out from under the back of his shirt. As he reached up to the bar shelves, I took notice of his sexy midriff, a slight dusting of hair ran down his treasure trail to the worn bulge in his jeans. Andy, aware of the attention, would wink back at me as he went about his work.
“Hey, if you’re really looking for a place and work you should get in touch with JC. He’s the man to help you out around here,” Andy said when he returned from his round. He leaned in intimately as he said it and I felt a stir at the closeness of the sexy bartender. “I can give you his card if you want. I think I have it somewhere in the back.”
“That would be great.”
“C’mon, I’ll find it for you and you can give me a hand. I need some help moving a couple kegs around back there.”
I was all too eager to go to the back room and help out the buff bartender, and followed him along the length of the counter to the small back room at the end of the bar. The room was only slightly brighter than the bar, with a door leading to the outside and a wall of fliers and tacked miscellany fluttering in the breeze that came through a small opaque window. As soon as we were in the small space the bartender pivoted toward me, pushing me up against the wall. I could feel the pushpins against my back as the sexy barkeep, without warning or permission slid his hands up into my tight shirt, his mouth locked deep and his tongue probing my mouth. I struggled a bit out of surprise before surrendering to the excitement of this illicit scene. The bartender ran his hands across every inch of my long, lean torso, pulling the hair under my armpits while his thumbs ran circles along my erect nipples. His tongue soon followed suit.
“As soon as I saw these nipples I knew I had to taste them,” Andy whispered gruffly as he unbuttoned my fly and jammed his hand within the tight space. He smiled when he felt no underwear, stroking aggressively at the turgid cock that lurked beneath. Pinned against the wall I felt wildly aroused by my lack of control as the sexy bartender held the back of my head with one hand, his tongue plunged deep down my throat, his other hand working hard and fast at my throbbing cock. This kid knew what he was doing. I could already feel myself reaching climax. I moaned into Andy’s open mouth as I burst in stream after stream of relief from my pent-up arousal. Andy bent down to clean me with his mouth, and it was only then that I realized that the line of men in the bar had been watching us the whole time through the small door to the backroom. They smiled back at me appreciatively and returned to their beers when Andy rose from his knees, pulled the hand towel from his shoulder and whispered, “Welcome to Ptown.” He grabbed the promised business card off the cork board, handed it to me and walked back out to the bar to hoots and appreciative applause from the patrons.
